


Heart Troubles

by SheepOh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Inspired by Once Upon a Time (TV), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3462965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheepOh/pseuds/SheepOh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What I think could happen if Sherlock had magic and could take hearts out as he wished, especially his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Troubles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moony818](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moony818/gifts).



''Sherlock Holmes!'', John's voice thundered through 221B Baker Street.

Quick and heavy steps followed it to the name's owner's side.

He was lying on the couch, still in his pajama and dressing gown despite it being late afternoon. His eyes were closed and his hands steepled under his chin.

''Sherlock!'', the voice thundered again, this time from right next to him.

''Not now John! I'm busy.''

''Are you?'', he huffed, ''With what?''

''A case, obviously.''

''A case. Is that why you TOOK YOUR HEART OUT?''

Sherlock, startled but feigning indifference, opened his eyes to see a bright red human heart resting in the palm of John's extended hand.

''Oh. You found it.''

''Yes, I did and you're going to put it back in right this instant.’’

He waved it away. ''It's distracting.''

''It's your heart Sherlock. I won't have you running around and leaving it behind.'' ''It's safer that way. No one can take it. I don't fancy a replay of that evening with Moriarty''

Ah, so that was what was bothering him. John remembered that scene perfectly. When he had seen him make a move towards Sherlock, he had taken his gun out pointing it on the assaillant. He was ready to shoot him down right there but was too late. Moriarty’s hand was already inside the detective’s chest. If he had shot him then, he would have crushed the other’s heart while gasping his last breath, so he hadn't. He’d waited. He had frozen there, as Sherlock had. The criminal mastermind had then slowly taken his hand out holding very steadily on the heart and exposing it for the first time. It was red, bright and unblemished. There were no dark spots on it. This had surprised the self proclaimed sociopath. In that moment, it had been written all over his features and had deeply saddened John. The man hadn't even known how pure of heart he was. He had believed all the mean stupidities people threw at him day after day. John had always known. From that point, he had decided to make sure Sherlock couldn't doubt himself anymore. He’d still let him know when he did something wrong, something majorly wrong, but he’d also let him know when he did something good, just a tiny bit good.

‘’He’s gone now. He can’t hurt us anymore. And no one else in this world is crazy enough to do anything like he did. Besides, we get constant break ins in here. Anyone could stumble upon it and take it or crush it! Imagine the consequences! I don’t want that. I couldn't stand that! ‘’

‘’It’s still distracting.’’

‘’You’re Sherlock Holmes! You can work through it, you did before.‘’

‘’And if I don’t want to?’’, he defied.

‘’Please, Sherlock, don’t be difficult, not with that.’’, he pleaded, ‘’ I need you, whole. I need to know you’re whole and fine and I need to know I can look after the whole of you and not constantly worry that a part of you I can’t see is being hurt. ‘’

Sherlock with his heart meant that, after years of practice, John could read on his face what he wouldn't say. He could always know when he was trying to hide hurt, shame or sentiment. He loved the latter and needed the former to know how to act, to soothe him, just as his tall friend could do him, sometimes by just being there, others by making him focus on something, others again by making him laugh and some, a bit more rarely, by leaving him to his own for a while. Without the heart he couldn't see. It was all blank and he hated it because Sherlock Holmes and all his related parts were anything but blank.

‘’Put it back. Please.’’

John pleading was a rare thing, pleading twice was exceptional, but, even without that, his features emanated genuine concern. One needn’t be a genius to see it. Though John’s face was usually quite expressive, especially when Sherlock was involved, it was more often showing astonishment or anger, sometimes pride and it wasn't the first time he saw concern in there but usually it wasn’t on it’s own, not like now, not this pure and soft.

‘’Alright.’’

‘’Thank you. Here, I’ll help you.’’

Sherlock scooted up so his back was against the armrest amd his legs on his friend’s lap. He was almost sitting on him. He opened his arms to grant him access and, after they exchanged nods, John gave one big push on his chest and the heart was back in its place.

The sensation was overwhelming. All of his emotions rushed into him at their strongest, but one, currently stronger than them all, took over and he soon found himself smashing his lips against the doctor’s. Luckily for him, this was not the first time. He had done so after Moriarty too. That time had been mortifying. He had never lost control like that, not even when he had been using. He had been terrified he had just sealed the pact that would take John away from him. His thoughts had spiraled, his throat tightened and he had been ready to run to Canada, hide in some hole in the forest and never come back again when they had parted, but John, oh wonderful John, had giggled. He hadn't pushed, hadn't run, hadn't screamed or even looked remotely uncomfortable. He had giggled. And so Sherlock had giggled along and it’s only his fears that had ran away, without him.

Today was easier. They had practice. Kisses weren't new anymore between them but they still felt good and could still carry messages, like this one. It had been heard loud and clear and so John smiled his answer contentedly.This also constituted an answer and Sherlock a heard it loud and clear too.

‘’You know, maybe I could get used to finding your heart around the house if it meant I'd get that every time'', he said playfully.

‘’You don't need to punch my heart back inside me to get it, you know.’’

‘’Yeah, and I love it.’’

‘’Me too.’’

They stared and smiled for a while, just being alive with each other and acknowledging how utterly in love they were and the other was, until Sherlock started fidgeting. His mind was going back to his previous train of thoughts; the game. He couldn't help it. It always called to him. John knew better than to be insulted. He also was quite fond of the game and of how excited Sherlock could look when his mind went to it.

''So, what's that case about then?'', he asked nudging his genius’ legs.

''Yes, the case. The case!''

Sherlock threw himself into an elaborate explanation of it, gesticulating wildly. John nodded, asked questions, attempted to answer others and they were back in it, back in their routine.

Routine for them had never been dull and, as it seemed, would never be. They'd spend days, barely eating, barely sleeping to resolve it, would chase dangerous criminals around town, have a few scares and maybe a few scars too, report to or avoid reporting to Lestrade and come back home. They'd treat one another’s wounds, carefully, with almost carressing hands, have a drink and a laugh and then collapse in bed together. They'd whisper their love softly in the night before falling asleep in each other's arms, completely exhausted. They'd have a few days to themselves, if they were lucky, before starting all over again and again and again, without ever stopping.


End file.
